


hidden meanings

by Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell



Series: Veils [2]
Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: F/M, Veils Universe, tw for abusive relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 15:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14059494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell/pseuds/Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell
Summary: Almost everyone in the Pixtopian court makes their mistakes.





	hidden meanings

The Pixtopian Court is dangerous.

 

Everyone knows this; it's a non-secret among the royals to be exceedingly cautious at any event held in Pixtopia. There were at least a dozen different unspoken rules that, if violated, could earn you anything from time in the shard mines to possible death.

 

Someone usually violated at least one of the rules, if not all, on accident.

 

Not Princess Jacelyn Lucitor, though.

 

From her first event as Archduchess, it seemed as though she knew just what to avoid without being told. She knew how to compliment the Empress, how to shun the people that should be shunned, how to smile and take the backhanded compliments sent her way with grace.

 

“She might still _dress_ like the Underworld princess she is,” whispered one of the servants when they thought Jace wasn't listening, and Jace knew they were eyeing her backless crimson dress, the eyeliner bleeding its way down her face- “But she's a natural at fitting in here otherwise.”

 

This was accurate. She carried herself lightly, adopting a gliding sort of step; she tucked a leaf from a Pixtopian tree in the bosom of her dress to avoid being hexed; she smiled every moment she was in view.

 

At night, around her two maids- a half-mewman, half-pixie girl named Lyriana and a nixie named Nerissa- she let her guard down some.

 

Both of them, like her, were halfbreeds. Lyriana was an illegitimate child and therefore a social outcast since birth; Nerissa was half-nixie, half-pixie, and therefore secretly regarded as somewhat savage- even more so, because her mother was Unseelie.

 

Around them, Jace could change out of her ballgowns. She could wear her hair in its trademark bushy ponytail, and she could wipe her makeup away.

 

It was only late at night, when she was completely alone, that she was completely herself.

 

She swore under her breath, she used magic to start a fire in the crystal fireplace and heat her bed, she watched Disney movies and sang along to the music quietly. Sometimes, she would let herself cry.

 

Only sometimes. Even _tears_ were dangerous in Pixtopia; any negative emotion was looked down on. In fact, every emotion was to be perfectly hidden at a moment's notice.

 

There were days she couldn't help it, though. Days where she felt her height and her gait (though she was _miniscule_ in the Underworld, she was gargantuan here- she had once heard someone refer to her as Godzilla). Days where she missed the constant warmth of home, where she missed the noise of her family. Days when she saw flaming roses suddenly. Once when Lyriana had been straightening her jewelry box and _that_ charm caught the light just right, dredging up hated memories in Jace's mind.

 

She cried silently, though, and in the morning her pillow was dry, her eyeliner and hair were perfect, and she smiled beatifically through each assembly.

 

She learned to shift her tone just right, as well; how to compliment, or how to give a disguised insult; the best ways to shut down a conversation, start one, or encourage one; the best ways to instill trust, respect, or even terror.

 

_That,_ Jace took no pride in. It was a necessity of evil, and she felt lower than low when she had to use it, but some things just needed to be done. 

 

Three months into her marriage, she had agreed to sit down with a Pixtopian reporter for an interview. It was supposedly about the plans she and Arrog were putting in place to boost unemployment (taken straight from her learning of the post-Depression America; it made her glad that her mother insisted she learn earth subjects as well as demon subjects), but Jace found instead that it was practically an interrogation on everything that had happened in Jace's life.

 

She shared details of growing up as a princess, of her schooling, of the Underworld Court. She laughed her way through non-offensive memoirs of her siblings, and she gave the bare minimum when details on Nico's disappearance two years beforehand were requested.

 

But then the reporter caught sight of three scars- a small, hardly noticeable one on her cheekbone she usually managed to disguise with eyeliner; a curved, very faint and slightly jagged mark on her neck; and the scar of a crooked heart on the inside of her right wrist. The reporter asked about them, clicking her pen expectantly.

 

At this, Jace's smile froze in place. She paused to seemingly ponder her words for a moment before saying in a cold, steely but polite tone,

 

“Don't you think that's a little _personal?”_

 

In Pixtopia she had learned that people's privacy was greatly valued and  _never_ to be tested. She let her smile relax when the reporter's aura manifested and she stumbled over herself to apologize, her bellspeak growing shrill.

 

“It's quite alright.” Jace said, her tone now relaxing, and she saw the reporter's shoulders slump with relief. “I apologize, but I believe this is all I have time for today. We can pick it up again next week, if you'd like?”

 

The reporter left with her notes clutched to her chest and Jace swallowed back the rush of self-hate she felt, shoving it down for when she was alone in her room, with Arrog asleep in the next room.

 

It might be the wrong way of going about things, but she wasn't going to talk about her scars, no matter who asked.

 

Her scars brought back memories both good and bad- driving around with heavy metal playing quietly, a corn shake in one hand and the other hand holding  _his_ tightly;  _his_ lips on hers, the first night they had met; the way  _his_ eyes would fade from green to black. 

 

The way  _his_ hand would rest between her wings, letting the whole world know who she was with; mornings spent smudging foundation over her bruised face; coming home with a cut cheek and a feeble explanation.

 

The legendary fight that took place when Tom and Marco told Jace she wasn't going to be allowed to see  _him_ again, and how she had screamed at them both when she found out  _he_ was, for all intents and purposes, exiled from the Underworld. 

 

The nightmares that had followed, and had only stopped after her marriage to Arrog and her subsequent move to Pixtopia.

 

When someone in the Court was angry with Jace, it became a struggle to hold her face expressionless and a game to trade insults with them, thinly veiled as compliments.

 

When the Empress looked down on Jace appraisingly, Jace curtsied and complimented her dress in just the right way, drawing attention away from how  _amused_ Jace was. 

 

And she was- how could she not be? Every argument was just deja-vu for her, every flaw pointed out as a 'grace' was something she had known for years.

 

To say it was easy for her, or to imply it came naturally, was a lie.

 

She had heard two of the Empress' Court whisper about her behind a cupped hand, while they mingled, and Jace's smile had frozen. Arrog, beside her, set a hand on her arm tentatively. Jace forced her body to relax, forced her smile to be genuine, but inside she was seething.

 

_This isn't natural._ She wanted to scream.  _This doesn't come easy to me. If I had my way I'd be watching **Mulan** right now and texting my family- _ that's  _ easy. Or I'd be sitting in Arrog's room with him, talking about something random, and that's easy.  _

 

She wanted to let her markings glow blue, wanted to summon fire to chase away the cold chill inside of her.

 

_**This** never came to me naturally! You know how I know how to do this? Because I made mistakes, a long time ago! I fucked up! I had bruises then to prove it, and I have scars now to prove it! Go ahead, look at these- this mark on my neck?  **He** gave it to me, through my own hand! The scar on my cheekbone? I nearly lost an eye!  _

 

Instead, though, she conversed with the other nobles. She thought about the town she and Arrog were over, and how to keep improving it. She focused on the warmth emanating from the necklace Arrog had made for her, and slowly the rage ebbed away. She reminded herself that no one could even see the scars, thanks to her thin layer of foundation and her dripping eyeliner.

 

She tried not to think about her two years with  _ him  _ too much, for many reasons. It was painful to remember how she had lost  _ him, _ for one. For another, the more she thought about their relationship, the more she circled closer to the truth, and thinking about the truth felt like a betrayal to  _ him.  _

 

And her third reason, thinking about  _ him _ was beginning to feel like a betrayal to Arrog. 

 

She was slowly but surely falling in love with Arrog, and the more she did, the more she realized how impossible it would be for her to  _ not  _ love him. 

 

As much as she had loved  _ him,  _ Arrog was everything  _ he  _ wasn't. 

 

Arrog never condemned the things she enjoyed. He never tried to force her to do anything she didn't want to do.

 

More so, he  _ understood.  _ When she talked to him, he really listened. 

 

Everything about him- the way he talked, the way he behaved towards her,  _ everything  _ made her love him more. 

 

Which was good, wasn't it? They were  _ married, _ and had been so for nearly six months, after all. 

 

But some days, she couldn't help but think of  _ him,  _ wish she was married to  _ him  _ instead. 

 

That's what they had planned- over late nights on the phone, times when they had stayed in  _ his  _ car and talked instead of obeying Jace's curfew, in quiet moments when  _ he  _ was hurting and needed a shoulder to lean on. Over two years they had built up a plan for a future together, and Jace's parents had ripped that away. 

 

They had gone through her room, too, and destroyed all the pictures of  _ him.  _ It was as though they wanted to pretend he had never existed, wanted to wipe any memory of  _ him  _ from Jace's mind. 

 

 

_ Funny, isn't it?  _ A dark corner of her mind would whisper some days, and Jace would cover her large ears with her hands as much as she could, wishing she could dig out her noise-cancelling headphones and just disconnect from reality for a while.  _ All the times you messed up, all the times he hurt you- whether or not you deserved it- that just helped prepare you for your life here, didn't it? _

 

Jace would leave her room then, would get presentable and go to whatever paperwork she could do, no matter what time of day or night it was.

 

At night, though, when she was remembering the good times before her parents had sent  _ him  _ away, she would trace the scar of the crooked heart, blocking out the circumstances that had led to it, and just try and recall the way he would smile. 

 

She fell asleep one night picturing what he might say if he could see her now, what sarcastic commentary he'd toss out even as his green eyes lit up.

 

One night, after a set of especially late assemblies, she had fallen asleep in one of her backless dresses (purple this time), too tired to do more than wipe the makeup off her face and pull a few bobbypins out so her hair fell in a long braid.

 

She hadn't been asleep for long, it felt like, before she heard  _ his  _ voice and thought she was dreaming. 

 

“Jace, wake up.”

 

It was soft and affectionate, and she could almost see the look he would have given her.

 

She refused to open her eyes, because when she did his voice would disappear and she'd be left with nothing but her memories.

 

Then a hand settled between her unfolded wings, sharp fingernails raking gently over her spine, and Jace sucked in a breath, her eyes flying open because  _ no one did that since... _

 

_That smile._

 

It had been  _ that _ smile that made Jace fall in love with him.  _ That _ smile that had made her so desperate to stay with him.  _ That _ smile that had made her lie about and hide the bruises, and later the few cuts, and once the true cause of a broken arm.

 

_ That _ smile that she hadn't seen in anything besides her nightmares for a little over a year.

 

“ _Luke?”_ She breathed, hardly daring to believe he was actually there.

 


End file.
